The Bullet in the GMan
by Maureen Helton
Summary: Follows Wannabe in the Weeds. Spoiler if you haven't seen it.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Because I need closure and I can't sleep. That's why.

Fat Pam was standing in the back of the dimly lit bar calling his name several times before he reacted, not wanting to tear his eyes from his singing beauty. Reluctantly he turned in his chair only to be met by the cold stare of Fat Pam. "This is for us," she grunted, pulling a handgun from her bag and aiming squarely at Brennan. Without a thought, Booth stood between the two women, causing a sharp pain in his chest. He had been shot. Instantly his partner was kneeling over him, applying pressure to his wound as they both noticed Pam cocking the gun again and aiming at Brennan. He wanted to call out to his partner, to protect her again, but he was too weak already. He heard another shot ring through the bar and prayed with all his might that Brennan had been the one to pull the trigger. His prayers were answered as he heard all of Pam's weight crash to the floor and Brennan was leaning over him once more. He was aware of her calling his name, pleading with whatever forces of nature could help her save him. He was aware of Hodgins giving orders and people staring in shock. He was aware of the cold feeling washing over his body, surely a result of blood loss. He was aware of Brennan's raw emotions as she tried to stop the bleeding. Then he was aware of nothing.

- - -

Her heels clacking against the tiled floor in the hospital created the only sound in the surgery waiting area. Brennan had asserted herself into the situation when the paramedics told her she was not allowed to ride along in the ambulance. She rode along anyway. Now she felt alone thought she was surrounded by silent faces. Her colleagues sat with ashen faces and watched her pacing, breaking the silence that had been going on for hours. Rationally Brennan knew that they had been at the hospital for only a few hours, but emotionally she felt they had been there for several days. She continued to walk the length of the small room. She couldn't look at any of her friends, though they meant well. Looking into their faces would be like looking into a reflection of her own doubts and worries. The other two women in the room were already crying, and Zach was visibly upset. She and Hodgins remained strong on the exterior.

On her nine thousandth rotation around the room and doctor in scrubs came into the dimly lit room. Five pairs of eyes met the doctor's gaze. The doctor looked down at his chart.

"You're here for Seeley Booth?" he stated rather than asked. Five heads nodded in the affirmative. "Which of you is Temperance Brennan?" Four sets of eyes resettled on Brennan as she put her hand in the air. "You're listed as his medical proxy, and I need to speak with you in private." Brennan could only nod as she followed the doctor out of the room and into and office.

"Is he alright?" she managed to ask with a weak voice.

"Seeley will be fine in due time. There was only slight damage to his lung, he has two broken ribs, and the bullet was lodged in a posterior rib near the spine. We've repaired his lung and removed the bullet. After a few days of observation here he should be fine to go home, where he will be on bed rest. I trust you will be there to take care of him?"

"Absolutely. Thank you, doctor. When may he have visitors?"

"Tomorrow. Technically, later today. I'd advise you go home and get a shower and a nap. Visiting hours begin at nine, and he will only be allowed one visitor at a time."

"Thank you again." Brennan excused herself and found her way back the waiting room full of nervous friends. As she suspected, all eyes were immediately on her.

"Sweetie?" Angela probed gently.

"He'll be fine. There was minimal but expected damage. He was lucky. He can have one visitor at a time starting at nine in the morning." All four chairs groaned as the adults vacated them. Silently they made their way to the parking garage before Brennan realized she had come by way of ambulance. Looking at Angela, the artist told her she, Zach, and Hodgins would take her back to her car. Mechanically Brennan made the journey home, where she stripped off her clothes and took the hottest shower her water heater would allow. Only then did she allow herself to cry.

Steam rose from her pink skin as she made her way into her bedroom and collapsed onto her bed. A glance at her alarm clock told her she had four and a half hours until she could see Booth. She grabbed her bedside phone and left Cam a voicemail at the Jeffersonian telling her that she would be unable to come to work that day. Then she reset her alarm and fell asleep.

- - -

By 8:30 Brennan was sitting in the hospital's main waiting area watching the second hand on her watch slowly rotate around the clock's face. Finally the time arrived and she made her way to Booth's room. She entered quietly, as not to wake him. He sat propped up on pillows. His skin was pale, and the bruises scattered around his bare flesh were noticeable. He was still asleep. Quietly, Brennan pulled a chair up to his bedside and took his hand in his. It seemed a little bit cold as she ran her fingers along the flesh on either side of his IV line. She let out an involuntary shudder. What seemed like days later, he opened his eyes.

"Booth!" she said, almost shocked.

"Bones," he muttered.

"I was so worried. You have no idea how worried I was. Seeing you like that, I just…" she trailed off, her voice full of emotion. "I worried."

"Bones," he mumbled again. He could see the unshed tears in her eyes. "I meant to tell you," he paused.

"It's alright, you don't have to tell me now."

"No. I meant to tell you that you are a good singer. Cyndi Lauper would be proud." He attempted to give her his charm smile, but it came across a little weak. Still, it had an effect on Brennan. Tears spilled from her eyes as she began to chuckle.

"You don't have to tell me that, Booth; you're not my mother."

"I know. That's how you know that you are a good singer. I don't have to lie." She smiled at him genuinely.

"I'm just so glad that you're going to be alright."

AN: Now I can sleep. Sweets apologizes for not showing up. He had and appointment with a neurotic gentleman the next morning that he could not break. Mostly, he's a new character and I forgot to write him in. Oops. Anyway, review pretty pretty please.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: This was an idea sent to me by CAnn. I can't take credit for the concept; only the writing. It's the car ride back to Hodgins' house after the hospital, after they dropped off Brennan. The three left are Angela, Hodgins, and Zach, for anyone playing along.

The silence began the moment the trio left the hospital, but as soon as Brennan got out of the car the silence took on a whole new energy. In darkness three people sat together, yet in different worlds. The ride to the hospital had been different; it had been charged nervous electricity. Together they had babbled constant reassurances. Surely Booth would survive. The bullet couldn't have hit his heart. He'd been through much worse and lived. He was always there to protect Brennan. Now that they knew he was alright, though, they could not speak.

Zach was absolutely still in the back seat. His hands were in his lap and his head hung forward. His posture directly mirrored his feelings. Rationally, he knew that feeling this way would not help anything. Booth had been shot, and his mentor had killed someone that night. Those things wouldn't go away no matter how he felt about it. Over the years he had developed a good relationship with the elder man. He was strong and reliable; always ready to take action. Seeing him lying supine on the floor of a bar with a hole in his chest had been a difficult thing for the young anthropologist to see. The next instant he had felt sure that Dr. Brennan was going to be shot before she grabbed Booth's gun and fired in defense. One shot was all it took to take the other woman down. Logically, he knew that his mentor was capable of killing; she had done it before, and he knew this. During his brief stint in the army he had seen many men and women being killed, and he had seen some of the soldiers doing the killing. Separately those facts were fine. Together they seemed entirely different. The injury and the death of the evening had somehow been more personal. Anxiety during the hours immediately following the incident was normal. Why, knowing Booth would recover, did he feel so empty? There was no reason for it. The last time he felt that way, someone in his family had died. Pam was the only one dead, but she deserved it, so he shouldn't feel any remorse. That was the only logical conclusion. Unfortunately, his emotions would not listen to logic and reason.

Hodgins was fidgety. He ran a hand through his hair before placing it in his lap. Then his hand roamed the dashboard, removing the last traces of dust. His mind was racing, and it seemed that his excess energy was being focused on his hand. He was trying hard not to think about the things that had happened earlier in the evening, but the images kept flooding his brain. Booth on the floor, pale and helpless. Brennan leaning over Booth, her face twisted in an expression of worry and fear. During the moment between the first and second guns being fired, he felt that his heart might have stopped. For a millisecond, he feared for Angela before realizing that Pam's only intended target was Brennan. He couldn't wrap his mind around Pam. She was just so deranged. Who in their right mind would sell her a gun in the first place? At that moment, in the car, Hodgins' reflexes wanted him to turn on the heat, but his brain told him that the chill racing up his spine had nothing to do with the weather; it was a beautiful summer night. Something in his stomach felt hollow. He had nearly lost two of his best friends that night. One of them was still in the hospital. Before that night, none of them had realized how close everyone had become since they started working with Booth. Hodgins mused that it usually takes tragedy to reveal one's true feelings. He let out a heavy sigh and continued driving, fidgeting all the while.

Angela's head leaned heavily on the glass of the passenger side window. If one didn't know better, they might mistake her posture and silence for sleep. Sleep would not come easily for her that night. It was a night that had changed them all forever. She couldn't shake the image of Brennan leaning over Booth's pale form expressing feelings her artist friend had never heard her reveal verbally. Angela knew in her heart that Brennan would have used the word "love" had the paramedics not arrived in time, even though she made claims that love did not exist. The artist felt as though she were carrying the weight of her feelings and the feeling of her best friend. Would the brilliant anthropologist ever figure out what her heart was declaring to the rest of the world? Would Booth? Perhaps this small tragedy would be just what they needed to get together. Angela had always known that Booth would make it through the shooting, but now that she knew he would be fine, she was still shaken. It was just another reminder of how fragile a thing life really is. One moment you're singing and having a good time, and the next someone is shooting at you. Even Brennan couldn't be so well-adjusted that it wouldn't have any effect on her. Surely she'd talk it out with someone. It was bittersweet to Angela when she made the realization that she was no longer the only confidante Brennan had. Now she had Booth, Sweets, and even Hodgins. In a matter of years everyone had grown so close. One woman had almost taken that away. Wanting a distraction from her own thoughts, Angela reached over and switched on the car's radio.

"Girls just wanna have fun" came blasting from the stereo. Had the night not ended so terribly, the song would have caused the trio to laugh. Simultaneously, Angela and Hodgins reached to change the radio station. Angela smiled weakly.

"What are we going to do?" Angela posed the question to her traveling companions. "We can't just not talk about it. We're all thinking about what happened tonight."

"There's no point in reliving it. Nothing will change." Zach made his statement quietly.

"I know," Angela said, almost dejectedly.

"He thinks my car is a toy car," Hodgins broke the silence that had settled in the car. "I took him to the warehouse where Brennan was being held, and he kept picking on my poor baby."

"That's Booth, always picking on things that are different from what he's used to," Angela said wryly.

"Why are we talking like this?" Zach shot his question from the back seat. "If we start sharing memories about our best times with Agent booth or the quirky things he's done, it will feel like he actually died, which he did not." The silence resumed inside the small car. "The last time I was in an atmosphere like this, my aunt had just died. It just seems to me that we shouldn't use the same tactics as if Agent Booth had been killed."

"Zach has a point," Angela agreed. " I just can't talk about anything else right now."

"I don't want to relive the shooting one more time," Hodgins said.

"We should plan Booth a homecoming party. Parties are fun," Angela said, her voice somewhat upbeat. With that, the three friends planned and plotted all the way back to Hodgins' estate. There they retired to bed and tried to dream of parties rather than funerals.

AN: Yeah. So, this was a one shot, but I have one more obligatory chapter now. This chapter was suggested to me by CAnn. I can't take credit for it, although I did just add it into my story. So, if you would, please drop me a review. Thank you.


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